


cry a storm of tears if it helps you breathe

by sxldato



Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Queer Character, Coming Out, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Sexuality Crisis, Vomiting, but this is just so upsetting, i've been upset about this scene since i read it over a year ago, like nico is my baby boy and i keep fucking him over, nico's queer crisis beats any other queer crisis, protect this child, so this was gonna happen eventually, this boy is a disaster, this fic gives me doubts about my morals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 16:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3297335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxldato/pseuds/sxldato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How the aftermath of Nico's fiasco with Cupid could have gone. Or should have gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cry a storm of tears if it helps you breathe

**Author's Note:**

> i may or may not be a terrible person  
> unbeta'd because i have to do my homework lmao sorry  
> title from Homesick by Sleeping at Last

As soon as Cupid vanished, Nico took a few steps back and slumped against a nearby column. His hands shook as he pressed them to his chest, struggling to breathe. He’d thought maybe once he said it, maybe once his secret was out in the open, it would help pull him away from the edge, stop this violent anxiety that was wracking his body.

He’d been wrong. This was clearly going to ride itself out no matter what he did.

His heart was beating too fast for him to take deep breaths, and his short inhales of air made his lungs burn. Sweat dripped down his spine as he hunched over, bracing his hands on his knees as he tried not to choke.

“Nico, are you alright?” Jason was a few paces away, looking exceptionally concerned. “Can you breathe?”

“No,” Nico wheezed. “No, I can’t.”

“Then we gotta get back to the others fast, get you some help—“ Jason’s hand was on his shoulder, and without being given a warning, that was similar to being electrocuted.

“Don’t!” Nico lashed out at him, trying to shove him away and put more distance between them. “ _Don’t touch me_.”

He fell back against the column, sides heaving, limbs trembling. His gut was turning over from the persistent feeling of being trapped, from the words he knew Cupid had wanted to hear being caught somewhere between his mouth and his stomach for so long. “I feel sick, can’t breathe… this is bad, this is bad…”

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.” The thing was that Jason actually sounded remorseful. He didn’t fully understand _why_ , but it was clear that he knew he’d hurt Nico somehow, and he didn’t want to do it again. “What can I do?”

Nico tried to think about how he was supposed to handle himself when he got like this, but everything in his brain was too raw to handle. Emotions he’d been sure to keep locked up for years were suddenly pouring out, taking over, and suffocating him.

“I—I don’t know,” he stammered. “I don’t remember—I can’t think straight, I can’t—nothing’s making sense—“

“Okay, okay, it’s okay. Let’s… let’s sit down, and we’ll figure it out from there.”

Nico wasn’t sure how long he’d have been able to hold himself up, so he was glad to have an excuse to take his weight off his legs. He slowly slid to the ground and cradled his head in his hands.

“What does it feel like when you breathe?” Jason asked.

“It hurts,” Nico panted. One hand was on his chest, the other planted firmly on the ground, fingers digging into the dirt. “Like someone’s squeezing my ribcage.”

“You’ve been breathing too fast; there’s more oxygen than carbon dioxide in your lungs. The problem is you have too _much_ air, not that you aren’t getting enough.”

“So what do I do?”

“Well, here, let’s get you sitting up straight—“

Jason’s hands were outstretched and Nico shrank in on himself, pressing his back against the column and willing Jason to stay away. “No, no no no—“

“Nico, hold on—“

“Don’t touch me, don’t _fucking_ touch me—“

“Look at me, right now.”

The firmness in Jason’s voice had Nico’s attention in a second.

“I don’t know why you don’t want to be touched, and I’m not asking you to tell me why, but I need you to understand something; I would _never_ try to hurt you, not ever.”

Nico’s eyes stung and he hurriedly wiped away any tears that might have been threatening to slip down his cheeks. Then he started talking before he could stop himself. “It feels… bad, feels weird, mostly if you don’t ask but sometimes even if you do and I don’t know why and I’m _sorry_ —“

“It’s okay,” Jason insisted. “You don’t need to apologize, and you don’t need to explain. But I want to help you, if I can. Usually physical contact grounds a person when they’re like this, but I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

Nico had pulled his legs up to his chest as a pathetic excuse to shield himself, but he slowly unfolded until he was open and vulnerable to Jason. “Tell me where,” he said weakly.

“Where I’m gonna touch you?”

Nico nodded.

“Okay, yeah, yeah I’ll do that.” Jason held up one of his hands. “I’m gonna move your hair away from your face now. If it hurts, let me know.”

Jason was a fighter; his hands were calloused from wielding a sword so often, and Nico didn’t know if it was possible for him to not feel pain from being touched. But Jason only used the tips of his fingers to tuck Nico’s hair behind his ears, barely applying any pressure.

“Am I hurting you?”

“Feels weird… but it doesn’t hurt…”

“Good, alright.” Jason’s eyes were searching Nico’s face, looking for any signs of improvement. “How’s your chest?”

Nico was still clutching at it, fisting the fabric of his shirt. “It’s getting worse, I can’t—can’t breathe without it hurting.”

“I’m gonna touch your chest and your back—“ Jason’s palm had barely rested on Nico’s chest when Nico grabbed Jason by the wrist. “—Or not.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry.” Nico let his hand drop back to the ground and drew his legs back up again. “That was bad, it—it felt bad, and—“

“That’s okay, that’s— hey, c’mon, look at me.”

Nico forced himself to lift his head. He didn’t want to look at Jason, didn’t want to admit to himself that Jason had been there when he’d been dragged through the mud because of secrets that were too painful to share.

“I won’t touch you there again,” Jason said. “Simple as that.”

Nico’s breathing was visibly labored; a light sheen of sweat had formed on his face and his hair was damp with it. “You won’t tell.”

“What, that this happened?”

“About what Cupid made me say.”

Jason’s brows furrowed. “It’s not my secret to tell.”

Nico’s stomach lurched at the thought of anyone else finding out and he pressed the back of his hand to his mouth.

“Is that what this is about? He did this to you?”

Nico didn’t say anything. He couldn’t bring himself to.

Jason looked angry, but not at him. “Gods shouldn’t do that; they shouldn’t throw us around the way Cupid did with you. We’ve all been through enough. And forcing you to come out was not something he should have been allowed to do. No one should be allowed to do that.”

“My father,” Nico managed, “what if he tells my father?”

“He wouldn’t,” Jason said, sounding oddly confident in his answer. “He only wanted you to admit it to yourself, right? He can’t be planning on outing you to your dad, or anyone else.”

Nico wasn’t convinced. He had no control of this anymore, and after four years of keeping it to himself, lack of control was a foreign feeling that sent fear sprouting deep within his bones. He inhaled sharply through his nose and exhaled through his clenched jaw. He wasn’t sure if the fear he was feeling was creating rage or panic, or both. But then a thick, stifling heat swept over him and his mouth filled with saliva, and he had his answer. He was too worn out to be angry, so his body had chosen panic instead. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Jason’s concern level seemed to double. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, just—“ Nico shifted to his side and gagged, bracing himself unsteadily with one shoulder against the column. “Just don’t leave me alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Nico doubled over himself and retched into the yellowing grass beneath him. Jason’s voice felt far away and muted, like they were underwater, but he heard the inflection at the end that made it a question.

_Can I touch you? On your back, maybe?_

He must have said yes, because soon he could feel circles being sketched into his skin by someone’s—Jason’s—fingertips. He’d never admit it, but it felt good; it gave him something to focus on other than the tightening pain in his chest and the nausea swirling through his head.

He tried to breathe in between bouts of sickness, but his stomach kept convulsing and his breaths kept getting cut short. There wasn’t much for him to throw up—he’d barely eaten anything—but panic had his body convinced it needed to get rid of something, and it wouldn’t stop until that something was gone. The gagging was hurting his throat, scraping it raw, and he wanted it to stop.

The worst part about vomiting during such intense episodes of anxiety was that he always cried. Always. Maybe it was the sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the pain, and maybe it was the embarrassment, but it didn’t matter. It all still brought about the same result.

Nico straightened back up, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist, hoping and praying that it wouldn’t happen this time, but it was useless. He could feel them already, hot and wet, spilling out of his eyes.

"Nico?"

"I'm sorry," he choked. "I'm-- I'm so tired of them screwing me up _all the time._ I hate that they have this much power over me, I hate that they can do this without any repercussions, and I _hate_ \--" he broke off, trying to contain a sob-- "I _hate_ that no matter how much they screw me over, it still hurts just as much every single time." He pressed the heels of his palms to his closed eyes, trying to stifle the inevitable breakdown that was about to occur. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, this is my fault--"

"How is this your fault?" Jason asked.

"If I wasn't so afraid of myself, if I didn't let this control me..." He looked at Jason, at the bruises and the dried blood on his skin. "He _hurt_ you. He hurt you because of _me._ "

"He shouldn't have threatened to hurt either of us," Jason argued. "This is not your fault, Nico."

"I should've been able to just say it, it shouldn't have been that hard..." The tears wouldn't stop, and he felt so weak, so helpless, that he thought he might seep through the ground and disappear into subspace. "I'm sorry Jason, I'm sorry you got hurt, I'm sorry you were dragged into this, I'm sorry..."

"It's alright," Jason said. His hand was still on Nico's back, rubbing up and down his spine. It was easy to follow; it was visible through his shirt. "You’re gonna be alright, Nico, I swear. It’s all gonna be fine.”

That was what did it, not his own panic or discomfort or shame. What sent him bursting into tears was kindness and comfort from someone else.

There was a rock bottom, and Nico had hit it a long time ago; then he had somehow been able to go _lower_. He had no dignity to lose at this point. The last few shards of it had gone out the window in the last five minutes because an immortal being wanted to use him as a personal punching bag, and he hadn’t even been the first one to do that.

They’d all fucked with him; they’d all had their fun. And right now, Nico had half a mind to just fucking give up, because he was _not_ playing these goddamn games anymore, and he was _not_ going to take any more bullshit.

Jason was being blessedly silent, only speaking to let him know when he was going to touch him—pushing his hair out of his face, wiping the tears away with his thumb, holding his hand, things that didn’t make his skin crawl, thank gods.

He wasn’t sure how long he cried, but when he stopped he felt worn out and tired, and the tight feeling in his chest had dissipated. There was still the lingering fear of other people knowing, because this secret was officially out of his hands and there was no way he could convince a god to keep this under wraps, but he pushed those thoughts away in favor of not completely losing his shit for the second (or third?) time that day.

“Did that help?” Jason asked. He didn’t look frustrated or uncomfortable, which was one of the strange things about Jason that Nico didn’t quite understand; Jason was honest, but there were definitely things he wasn’t sharing. If what he was keeping to himself was how he really felt about Nico, well, Nico couldn’t really blame him. Unease was typical, and Nico tried his best not to care.

He leaned his head against the column, closing his eyes and taking a moment to fully come back down from such high altitudes of fear. “A little.” He opened his eyes again and looked at Jason. “Where you were touching me before—my back and my hands and stuff—it… that was good.”

The corners of Jason’s mouth turned up slightly. “I’m glad I could help.”

Nico nodded and started getting to his feet.

“We can wait for a minute, if you want,” Jason said. “You can take your time.”

“No, I wanna get out of here.” Nico walked a few paces to retrieve the scepter lying on the ground, where Cupid had been what felt like hours ago. He glanced around, trying to get rid of the feeling that he was being watched. “I hate this place.”

“Okay, we can go.” Jason was on his feet too. “I just wanted to tell you—“

“I’m not having this conversation.”

“But—“

“Jason, I’m not gonna talk about it.”

“And I won’t make you,” Jason promised. “I just hope you know that we’re all backing you up, one hundred percent. Nothing that happened today changes anything.”

Nico chose to focus intently on his scuffed-up shoes. “Yeah.”

Jason still looked worried, and Nico wished he would stop caring so much. It was new and different and he wasn’t sure if he liked knowing that people outside his family were concerned for his well-being.

“We’re going back my way,” Nico decided aloud. “No more flying.”

“How—“

“I’ll show you, come on.” Nico held out his hand and Jason took it; then, without explaining, Nico pulled them both into the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> _If love's elastic, then were we born to test its reach?_   
> _Is it buried treasure or just a single puzzle piece?_   
> _It's poison ivy beneath our brave and trusting feet_


End file.
